Wrestling with Demons
by holygirl84
Summary: It's not easy for Steve to open up. Not by a long shot. He's had years of learning that McGarrett men don't cry, followed by even more years of that Academy. BUDs just drilled those lessons deeper into him; taught him how to channel his pain into something more productive. And it had worked. For a while at least...Until the day that stopped working.
Confront the dark parts of yourself, and work to banish them with illumination and forgiveness. Your willingness to wrestle with your demons will cause your angels to sing. –August Wilson

It's not easy for Steve to open up. Not by a long shot. He's had years of learning that McGarrett men don't cry, followed by even more years of that Academy. BUDs just drilled those lessons deeper into him; taught him how to channel his pain into something more productive.

And it had worked. For a while at least. For a while he was able to push everything that happened deep down inside of him; compartmentalize and put the memories into locked boxes stored deep with the attic of his mind, never to be found again. Until the day that stopped working.

It didn't stop all at once, if Steve were to be honest about it. Looking back now, he sees the cracks and broken locks along the way. The nightmares invading his sleep. The way he threw himself into work so he didn't have to go home to an empty house with too many memories. The irritability, snapping at those closest to him over nothing at all.

The kidnapping and torture by WoFat had been his breaking point. The combination of drugs pumped into him had left him weak and shaky for days as they slowly worked their way out of his system. Coupled with painful withdrawal symptoms and ongoing hallucinations that left him unable to distinguish fantasy from reality Steve had simply been unable to cope. All of his usual defense mechanisms were gone, turned to mush by the drugs reeking havoc on his body and his mind, meant that all the memories that Steve had neatly stored in boxes in back of brain came rushing to the forefront, like presents on Christmas morning that were desperate to be opened. And opened they were. All of them, all at once, and Steve was unprepared for the violent onslaught. Caught somewhere between the past and present, reality and fantasy, he's helpless to do anything but watch as the memories flicker across his brain like a movie: first his mother, then his father, then Freddie. Everyone he loves whose ever died. But then Chin flicks across the screen, then Kono, Gracie, and Danny. Dead. All of them dead and Steve can't do anything but scream.

He's sedated after that, at least until the doctors feel certain that the majority of the drugs are out of system and there isn't going to be a repeat of his earlier episode. The hospital insists that he have a psych consult before he's allowed to be discharged, which Steve tried to fight, insisting he didn't need one. Danny, on the other hand, thought it was a fabulous idea and wasted no time in telling Steve exactly that. He'd lost that fight pretty quickly and consoled himself on the fact that's its mandatory if he wants to trade his gown for cargo pants and leave the 4 white walls of his hospital room.

Steve hadn't been prepared for the 5ft 1 petite young woman who'd walked into his room. He can't quite remember now who he'd been expecting, but he can tell you that she was the exact opposite of whomever it was. Colleen her name was. Is. Steve didn't talk to her much that first day; answered most of her questions in short one or two words sentences whenever possible. But Colleen hadn't seemed turned off by that. She was clearly comfortable in the silence and didn't push him to talk the way that the other therapists he'd been mandated to see by the Navy had. Instead she had quietly assured him he didn't have to share anything he didn't want to. At the end of the session she had left her card on the night table, stating if he ever needed to talk he was welcome to call. Steve still isn't sure what made him hang on to it but he's glad now that he did.

The transition back home had been harder that ones in the past. It had seemed that once Steve's defense mechanisms were down, they had stayed down. He had found he couldn't compartmentalize what had happened to him the way he had in the past. It had been early one morning, after another sleepless night plagued with flashbacks, that he had called Colleen.

The therapy process hadn't been easy, not by a long shot. In fact, it had been one of the hardest things he'd ever done in his life. But slowly, very slowly, he had started to open up about his past. The things that had happened to him. The things he had done.

And slowly, very slowly, things got better. He was able to sleep again. The nightmares decreased. He started enjoying the little things in life again; stopped exhausting himself at work. It wasn't perfect, there were still days when things were rough, when the memories came rushing to the forefront without any warning. But Steve felt better prepared now, better able to handle the bad days. They didn't throw him like they once did. But perhaps more importantly Steve felt hopeful. Hopeful about the future. Hopeful about himself. He had learned to stop hating himself. Stop blaming himself for the events of the past. He had learned to stop carrying the weight of the world on his shoulders alone. To let someone else be help carry it. And that right there had made all the difference.


End file.
